


Stations of the Sun and Stars

by AngelPair



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, F/M, France is the bad guy in this one I'm sooooorry, Good guy Alfred, Human Pet, Human!England, M/M, Mind Control, Slavery, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolf!Alfred, Werewolves, long fic, vampire!Francis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelPair/pseuds/AngelPair
Summary: Francis is night, Alfred is day, and Arthur never sleeps.Mostly a USUK fanfiction with a lot of complicated FrUK. Vampire and Werewolf AU. Warnings: violence, abuse (mental, physical, emotional, sexual), non-con, character deaths.





	1. 1.1

_~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Book 1: Flight_

_~~~~~~~~~~~_

 

**1.1**

 

**(April 7, 1987)**

 

At the edge of the forest, for the third evening in a row, the blond man appeared. He hid in the shadows of the trees, one or two steps away from being completely unseen in the thick darkness. Alfred decided that this time, he would muster up the bravery to approach.

 

For the past two nights, feeling partially guilty, and partially justified – this was his land after all – Alfred had watched the stranger through a pair of binoculars. The man was hauntingly beautiful. Pale in the darkness of the forest, and even paler where sunlight fought through the tree cover to light up speckles of his skin. Green doe eyes, unrealistically bright, delicate features and a slim physique. Light, fluffy hair, but a dark and thick pair of eyebrows framing his face, giving an aura of wildness to the delicate beauty. He appeared to be in his late teens, or perhaps his early twenties – in any case, not much older than Alfred's own 18 years.

 

If only the beautiful man hadn't been standing within the boundaries of a forest so creepy that no-one dared enter it, Alfred lest of all.

 

On both previous nights, the stranger had stood and watched the world outside of the forest – Alfred's world – with a nervous anticipation, as if trying to build up the bravery to step away from the trees and into the evening sun. And after a few hours, as night was close to falling, the beautiful man would look frustrated and upset before backing off and disappearing into the darkness.

 

The first time Alfred had seen the man, he had thought he was seeing a ghost. He had felt chilled to his very core, and yet unlike with his imagined late-night ghouls and monsters, he had not screamed, hidden under his sheets, or fled. The stranger did not know he was there, watching from a window fifteen metres away, but still he had Alfred hooked, statue still, no desire to do anything but watch.

 

On the second night, Alfred was not scared at all. Only glad that the man had returned, that he got to witness and revel in his ethereal beauty once more. He had stared through the same binoculars, the same window, undetected, and at around the same time, the stranger had looked up to the darkening sky with a sad frown, took one last starved glance at the outside world, and disappeared into the trees.

 

On the third night, Alfred had decided that ghost or not, he would speak to the man. He did so cautiously, as if he were a photographer approaching a wild deer with his camera. The man had noticed, watched him tensely with wary eyes, but evidently curious, he did not flee.

 

“Hey,” Alfred greeted delicately once he was within speaking distance. He did not want to startle the stranger with his usual loud volume and large presence, would not forgive himself if he scared him away.

 

“Hello,” the stranger replied smoothly, with a voice like a lullaby, more beautiful than any song Alfred had ever known.

 

There was a moment's pause, a delicate silence that Alfred was desperate to break but did not know how to, unused to being so careful with himself or with his words. “Whatcha doing here alone in the forest?” he eventually asked, and the man furrowed his large eyebrows, looking somewhat uncomfortable with the question.

 

“I live here...in the forest,” the accent was sweet and English, and Alfred felt his already nervous heart start to beat just a little bit faster.

 

“Are you a ghost?” Alfred blurted out – completely accidentally – and to the man's credit he only looked slightly taken aback.

 

“No, of course not,” and though he had no reason to trust the words of a mysterious stranger lurking in the woods, Alfred felt relieved.

 

“You should come out of the darkness then. I've seen ya looking,” Alfred gave a wide, friendly grin, the smile that he knew could put anyone at ease, “no point hiding away, there's nothing in town that'll bite ya,”

 

The stranger's eye's widened just a fraction, and he shook his head. “I shouldn't. I need to stay here. I shouldn't be talking to you, either,”

 

“Why not?”

 

The stranger chewed a delicate pink lip and looked down at the ground with a troubled expression. He did not answer Alfred's question, simply stating “I should go,”

 

“Already?” Alfred couldn't help but sound disappointed. The man looked apologetic.

 

“I shouldn't be talking to you,” he repeated, and although Alfred was confused, in fear of upsetting the stranger, he did not press for answers.

 

“If you have to go, that's alright, but...can I at least have your name?”

 

The man hesitated, glanced behind himself nervously, and nodded. “Very well. My name is Arthur,”

 

Alfred grinned widely, “It suits you! Mine is Alfred,”

 

“Alfred,” said boy's stomach fluttered at hearing his name roll off such a beautiful tongue, “It was...nice...to talk to you, but I really do have to leave,”

 

Alfred nodded. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

 

The man only frowned.

 

“Why would you want to?” he asked, and Alfred himself wasn't sure of the answer. He shrugged.

 

“I don't know. But I _do_ want to. I really want to. Will you come? We could be friends,”

 

Arthur flinched at the mention of friendship, and did not say a word. Alfred wanted to know what nerve he had struck. He wanted to know absolutely everything there was to know about Arthur, in fact, but he did not have a clue why. Perhaps the strange man was a witch who had him under some sort of spell, or perhaps Alfred was just far too weak when it came to pretty English boys.

 

Eventually, Arthur spoke again. “Where are your parents? You shouldn't be speaking to strangers in the woods,”

 

“I live here alone,”

 

“In that big house? Are you not too young?”

 

Alfred shook his head. “Eighteen, inherited it,”

 

“Oh...your parents are dead,” Alfred nodded and Arthur was silent for a moment before mumbling, “I'm sorry,”

 

Alfred, who prided himself on being peppy and cheerful regardless of the situation, only shrugged. “It's in the past now, I had other relatives in town to look after me. How close to town do you live?I've never seen you around,”

 

Arthur did not respond, but for some reason, Alfred did not feel suspicious of the man's secrecy.

 

“Okay, you don't want to talk about it,” Alfred conceded, “That's alright. But will I see you again?”

 

Arthur remained painfully silent, and though he didn't understand what was driving his desperate want, Alfred remained painfully hopeful. Finally looking up and meeting his eyes, Arthur gave a small smile.

 

“Yes, Alfred. I think you will,”

 

 


	2. 1.1.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Occasionally there are time skips in this work. As every chapter is dated, I've not focused too hard on integrating information like “it had been x years since” or “in the past x years” etc. etc. You don't have to pay too much attention to the dates if you don't want to, but a glance at the year before each chapter might be a good idea :) 
> 
> I actually got a few comments on the last chapter, and they were all very kind. Thank you so much! And thank you for all of the kudos too. To get such a good response on just the first chapter really made my day, though I'm a little nervous about the rest of the story continuing to please. I will say, there is a lot that is going to happen in the rest of the fic, so if there are parts that don't seem as interesting or are a little disappointing, please stick it out! Thank you all again!
> 
> (Chapter edit - three grammar mistakes corrected, one spelling mistake corrected, "full moon peeking" > "yellow moon glowing" [see note at beginning of chapter 4 for more info]).

**1.1.2**

 

**(February 19, 1990)**

 

Nerves clawed at Alfred's chest and tightened his throat as he stared into the darkness of the creaking forest. He really didn't want to do this, but it was for Arthur, and for Arthur, he would do anything.

 

It had been over a week since he had last seen his weird little English friend, and he was worried. Alfred was not a worrier by nature – that was more Arthur's role – but in the nearly three years they had known each other, Arthur had never disappeared unannounced for more than a few days. Now, on day nine of Arthur's absence, Alfred was prepared to make a very bold move – to cross out of the town and into the forest in search of Arthur himself.

 

Alfred did not know whether or not Arthur was human. The logical part of him said that yes, of course he was, but a more instinctual part of him was uncertain. It was odd enough that Arthur appeared to live in a forest, but it was something about his aura – eternal and spiritual – that was the most...off. And in the past, Alfred had not been shy about asking. He never got anywhere, Arthur brushed him off with obviously false nonchalance each time. Alfred didn't mind. Arthur was his best and closest friend, and the most beautiful being he had ever been blessed to meet. Sometimes Alfred wondered if he was being bewitched into not caring about all the mysterious oddities that surrounded Arthur. If he was, then he hoped that the spell would never end, because he could no longer imagine living a life that didn't revolve around the shining green-eyed beacon that was Arthur.

 

That scary thought – the thought of a life without his friend – was what had taken him by the hand and led him to where he was standing now. Alfred was scared for Arthur, more scared for him than he was of the forest and all the horrors it might hold.

 

Arthur had a bit of a temper, an impressive glower, and Alfred had no doubt that for the most part, he knew how to take care of himself. But still, there was something about Arthur that was so meek and gentle, so obviously vulnerable – to his very core he was weak and submissive in a way that did not match his personality, in a way that seemed wrong. And Arthur was always tense, always _expectant._ Alfred knew that there was something bad plaguing his friend and now he was scared that whatever that bad thing was, Arthur had succumbed to it. To disappear into such a lengthy, unannounced absence was not in Arthur's nature.

 

So, if Arthur could not come to him, he was going to go to Arthur.

 

Or try to, at least. Alfred did not know his way around the forest, but his worries had put him into a reckless mood, and he was sure that, with the frequencies of Arthur's visits, he would find some path or marker to lead his way. He was also hopeful, although he knew that it was unlikely, that Arthur himself would materialise out of nowhere, bringing with him a lecture about the dangerous of exploring an unfamiliar forest so close nightfall. On a usual evening, it did not matter the location - if Alfred was near the forest, Arthur had a knack for finding him. Perhaps intentionally ignoring all of Arthur's warnings would draw his friend out of hiding.

 

Unfortunately, as with so many things in life, exploring the forest in search of Arthur was something easier said than done. The recklessly brave fire that had burned within him had begun to dwindle at the sight of the trees, and Alfred had spent over an hour pacing hopelessly. The longer he put off tackling the woods, the darker the evening was becoming, and the worse of an idea his plan was beginning to seem.

 

And for once, it wasn't just Alfred being overly nervous. Just like something was off about Arthur, something was very, very off about the forest, and Alfred's hesitation was perfectly justified. The forest did not just feel slightly wrong, in fact, but very dangerous, and it was not just Alfred who thought so.

 

No-one in the town went into the forest – or at least, no-one had in many years. And no-one talked about the forest either. Nothing bad had happened there – no-one missing or killed or attacked – but still no-one talked about it, an unspoken and mutually agreed town-wide rule, grounded in an instinctual human knowledge that something was wrong. Never had Alfred, in all his life, seen anyone go into the forest, and neither had he heard anyone bring up the absence of hobby hunters and campers who would usually have made such a lush forest their second home.

 

Arthur, of course, was the one exception. He did not avoid the forest, but the world outside of it, refusing to ever leave pressing shadow of the trees and step into the sun. And unlike the townsfolk, who ignored the issue, Arthur talked openly about the forest and its dangers – if only to try and convince Alfred to never step inside.

 

“ _It's a dangerous place, there are no paths. If you don't know your way around you won't find your way back...”_

 

“ _The animals in here aren't safe, if you don't know what to watch out for you'll be attacked by a bear...”_

 

“ _There are farms on the other side of these woods. The farmers have all sorts of traps for foxes and wolves. You'll end up stumbling into one and getting hurt if your eyes aren't well adjusted to the dark...”_

 

All of Arthur's warnings were spinning round and round Alfred's head, making him dizzy with fear. But, at the same time, Arthur's voice and how much he missed it nagging in his ears was driving Alfred closer and closer to taking his first step away from the safety of his town and into the trees. Eventually, as that voice was joined by a barrage of Alfred's own concerns – a list of possible scenarios and situations which could have led to Arthur's disappearance – something snapped, and without letting himself think of what he was doing, Alfred took three confident strides into the forest.

 

He stopped for a moment and waited, not sure exactly what he was anticipating. Perhaps a bear to lunge at him from the shadows, or perhaps for Arthur himself to appear from behind a tree with some harsh words and an angry lecture. But nothing. It was still just a forest – albeit a very thick and dark one, barely lit by the setting sun – and it was just as quiet and empty as it always appeared to be from the outside.

 

Alfred clicked on his flash light, took a deep breath, and continued forwards. Besides, he wasn't going to go far. If he kept the light of the town in sight, nothing could go wrong.

 

* * *

 

It had been over an hour, the sun was down, Alfred was lost and trying not to panic. He clung to the desperate idea that Arthur was going to pop up out of nowhere and lead him home, but he couldn't ignore the nagging fear that Arthur might not just be busy, or in danger, but flat out dead and not coming to save him.

 

He had managed, so far (and by some miracle) to stay calm, but he knew it would not last. He could feel his stomach becoming more and more twisted in anxiety and knew from experience that at any moment his guts were going to give a final giant lurch and he would go flying into a fit of fear. The supernatural, for Alfred, was a phobia, and right now, it felt like he was in a horror movie.

 

It was the howl of a wolf that finally set him off. Shrill, loud, echoing, potentially near and potentially miles away. The last thread of his sanity snapped, and Alfred made the stupid decision to drop his flash-light and flee.

 

He didn't care about anything but putting distance between himself and the shadows. He was not on any sort of path, and so there were branches cutting his arms and face as he whipped past them. His glasses – almost brand new – were probably going to need replaced. Twice he painfully slammed against tree trunks almost invisible in the dark. Deep in his mind, he had acknowledged that relinquishing his light source to terror had been a very bad decision, but it wasn't until he tripped cliché-slasher style over a tree root that his mind was snapped – along with possibly his ankle – back to reality.

 

“Fuck,” Alfred swore from the ground, scrabbling against a tree trunk to pull himself up into a sitting position. He might have been physically fit, but he wasn't superhuman, and a sprained ankle was going to cause some problems. He had further lessened his chances of making it home now. “Fuck,” he swore again, louder this time. Why did ghosts and ghouls always turn him into such a pansy? If he was being chased by a mugger, he would have stood his ground, turned around, and knocked them back a few centuries. But being chased by shadows and paranoia and it ends in panic and injury? _Ridiculous,_ Alfred thought to himself with an exasperated huff, pushing his fringe off of his sweaty forehead and trying to make sense of his dark surroundings. He was not ready to lie down and accept that his end might come from getting lost in a forest. There had to be some way out of his predicament. Perhaps he had caused enough damage that in the morning, when the sun rose and there was a little bit of light, he would be able to retrace his route...

 

The distinct noise of something fast and heavy crashing through plants made everything in Alfred freeze.

 

“What...”

 

Perhaps he hadn't been running from shadows, but from an instinctual knowledge that something dangerous was nearby. Something that had now caught his scent and was heading straight for him. It took only a moment for the realisation that he was in danger to sink in, and Alfred was up again, pain forgotten and running fast.

 

And Alfred was a fast runner indeed. He had natural athletic talents. But whatever was after him was getting rapidly closer, snarling and panting, and no amount of adrenaline was helping Alfred move at the necessary speed to outrun the beast. When something launched into him he screamed, first in panic and then in white hot pain as his arm was torn savagely into. It was something huge – something hairy and vicious...a monster or...just a bear?

 

Alfred wasn't sure, but he lived at the edge of a forest and knew to be prepared for wild animals. Thoughts of ghouls and ghosts had distracted his mind, but whatever was attacking him was real and Alfred would have to treat it as such to escape alive.

 

With the arm that was not being mauled in the creature's grip, Alfred grappled to pull a pen knife out of his pocket. Being shaken up and down like a rabbit in the jaws of a fox, it was difficult, but with a twist, he managed an awkward stab at the creature's eye.

 

It worked – he was released. Desperately he scrabbled forward, trying to put any possible distance between himself and the animal, as pathetic as the action may have seemed. But the creature did not come after him again. Instead, it backed off, howling in pain. The howl, Alfred noticed, was not a noise that could have come from a bear.

 

With a final whimper, the beast fled, leaving Alfred alone to his pain. The last thing he saw as his conscious faded was the yellow moon glowing through the treetops.

 

 


	3. 1.1.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking an unannounced break – I'm currently focusing on my degree, and I've also been getting back into video games, so writing isn't my only big hobby right now. So far, this story has been very well received, and I'm happy that so many people are enjoying my work. I hope I can continue to please - thank you for all the kudos and comments!
> 
>  
> 
> I wanted to explain my chapter organisation a little – I have three separate “books” planned for this fic, which will probably all be posted within this one AO3 work. These books are divided into extended chapters, which are then sub-divided into parts. “1.1.3” means we are in book one, chapter one, part three. I spent a while trying to figure out what sort of organisation would work with the odd flow of this story and eventually worked out this system. Book one: chapter one is an extended prologue of sorts, so it has more sections than most future chapters will have.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you again for your patience.

**1.1.3**

 

**(February 20, 1990)**

 

Alfred awoke, very suddenly, to a burst of pain. The awakening was not like anything he had ever experienced before. He felt as if he had not just been snapped out of unconsciousness, but yanked back from the dead. It felt wrong – he felt wrong, all over, inside and out. And he hurt. He hurt badly.

 

But despite it all, he felt safe.

 

He noticed, very vaguely through the pain, that there was a hand running softly through his hair. It was comforting, assuring. Everything felt wrong, but the gentle stroking promised that things would be okay. Alfred's curiosity was piqued, and though he couldn't get his heavy eyes to open, he tried to shift. The attempt caused a deep red flash of pain across his shoulder – and he yelped. The hand on his head shot to his chest, encouraging Alfred with a gentle push to lie still.

 

“Hush, hush. I promise the pain will soon pass. Please lie still,”

 

The voice was frightened, familiar, and Alfred had never before been so grateful to hear any other sound. He forced his eyes open though they stung in stubborn protest and ached in the bright sun. He didn't care, because above him hovered a tear-stricken and panicked Arthur. Memories from his traumatic night were beginning to rush back to him, and though he was contemplating the possibility that he had passed on into some heavenly afterlife, Alfred couldn't hold back a smile.

 

“Arthur...I missed you,”

 

Noticing now that he was conscious, Arthur frowned down at him in an expression so tearful and grumpy that Alfred wanted to laugh. He may have hurt to see his beloved Arthur upset, but he couldn't help but happily relax into the familiar situation. And, though it was a difficult admission, there was a somewhat guilty pleasure to be had in Arthur's distress centring on his well-being.

 

“You idiot,” Arthur hiccuped suddenly, his frown intensifying when Alfred's grin did not fade, “What are you smiling about? What were you even doing out here? I told you never to come. Idiot, idiot, idiot,”

 

This time, Alfred did laugh. He felt so happy and warm. He had missed having Arthur there to frown at him and call him names. Everything had felt so empty in his friend's absence.

 

“I was looking for you, of course,” Alfred wished to reach up and give Arthur's head a playful nudge for its over-concern, but he was unable to move,“But a bear or...uh, something...found me instead,”

 

Thinking back, he had no clear memory of the attack. Had it been a bear? He remembered thinking otherwise, but he couldn't recall why. Taking his attention back to Arthur, he noticed that the poor Brit was beginning to look more frightened and distressed than angry and concerned. Arthur was a bad worrier by nature. Alfred could never stand to see it.

 

“Don't worry about me though Artie, I'm gonna be just fine once I get to a hospital,” he quickly put in, “We uh...are still alive, right? This isn't heaven?”

 

Maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Arthur looked even more upset. Had he hit a nerve? Were they actually dead? Alfred's heart began to drum nervously...so nervously, in fact, that Alfred could hear it pound in his chest. He only had a moment to ponder his sudden auditory prowess before he was again distracted by Arthur.

 

“You are alive, idiot,” Arthur sniffled. Well, that was a relief. His heart slowed down to a more standard pace, but he could still hear every beat. Perhaps it was something to do with blood loss? All Alfred could do was hope for the speedy arrival of an emergency crew. Above him, Arthur continued.

 

“I told you not to come out here, I told you to never come here. It's not safe. I told you it wasn't safe,”

 

Dammit. Arthur was really starting to work himself up. He would probably end up in quite a state if Alfred didn't manage to ease his bubbling panic.

 

“It's okay Arthur, I'm okay. I shouldn't have come here, you're right, but I'm safe now I'm with you. I was feeling a little rough when I woke up, but the pain is easing already. I know I probably look a mess, but they'll get me cleaned up at the hospital and I'll be okay. So please don't panic,” he soothed, “Do you have some guys coming out here?”

 

Arthur looked down, his eyes puffy eyes glittering as a fresh wave of tears formed. Arthur could be hard to read sometimes, but Alfred knew that meant “no”.

 

“Well uh...I guess that makes sense. You probably don't have any way to contact anyone. I did something to my ankle last night, but I'm starting to feel a bit stronger than when I woke. I think I can get back to town if you help me,”

 

Arthur shook his head again. “I can't take you back to town,”

 

“Why n-”

 

“You're not safe with me. You're not safe in town. You're never going to be safe again,”

 

Oh man, Arthur was further lost to his anxieties than Alfred had noticed. Maybe he had missed the signs in his pained delirium. It was just an Arthur thing though, something that happened every now and then. Arthur was an intelligent young man, a deep thinker, and sometimes he thought too hard. Alfred knew how to work through it with him by now.

 

“What are you talking about Arthur? Calm down, okay? It was just a bear. It only got one bite in before I fought it off. I'll be out of action for a little while but they'll be able to patch me up just fine. Nothing to freak out about. It's okay,” though even to Alfred, such a casual presentation of being attacked by a bear was unconvincing.

 

Arthur only looked more harrowed. He refused to meet Alfred's eyes, not in dishonesty but in some sort of apprehension. “It's not okay. And it wasn't a bear,”

 

“Then what was it? What's got you so upset?” Arthur's odd behaviour was beginning to throw Alfred off a little. Perhaps he really was a big, gory mess. Perhaps he was more injured that he felt and had no chance of survival. Perhaps he was missing his arm all together and he was too delirious to notice. But Arthur's eventual answer was considerably more unexpected.

 

“Alfred...you were bitten by a werewolf,”

 


	4. 1.1.4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there's a drop in writing quality in dialogue heavy sections like these. I feel pretty useless at dialogue. Thank you everyone for leaving such kind reviews and encouraging me to continue this work!

**1.1.4**

 

**(February 20, 1990)**

 

The rest of the morning was a confusing haze. Usually, Alfred would have laughed off such a statement. He was wary of the supernatural, yes, but _him,_ bitten by a werewolf? However, it was _Arthur_ who had said it, and if Arthur told him the world was going to be over-run by mutant cats, Alfred wouldn't have questioned it.

 

But even if he didn't have Arthur to explain things, he would still have known that something in him had changed, dramatically and supernaturally. There were differences he couldn't ignore - his injuries were healing already; the forest, usually dark and murky, was clear as day; he could hear the scuffling of mice inside a nearby burrow; and he could sense that rainfall was approaching. These were not normal abilities, and this was not the way a human mind processed the world.

 

But, the more his senses sharpened, the duller his brain became. He was becoming gradually overwhelmed by his vivid new world, by Arthur sniffling miserably above him, and by the realisation that the supernatural existed more than in his imagination – and that he himself was now a part of it.

 

“Alfred...” Arthur's tears had dried up but his voice was shaking. Despite his confusion and distress, Alfred managed a smile. He didn't want to make Arthur any more worried. “You're going to go into shock if you stay lying here, I want to get you into a bed. Can you walk yet?”

 

If Arthur had requested it, Alfred could probably have flown. “Of course Artie,”

 

“S'not my name you git,” Arthur sniffled, “Get up then,”

 

Muscles tight and bones stiff, Alfred rose. His clothing stuck to him uncomfortably, and on the floor below there was a pool of sticky blood. Alfred grimaced at the sight, and Arthur quickly turned him away, leading him with surety into what appeared to be a dangerously indistinguishable patch of woodland.

 

“Are we going home?” Alfred was leaning hard on his friend, and wasn't happy about needing the support. Arthur was a slight and slender man, not particularly strong, and Alfred was sure 'home' was very far away. He didn't want Arthur to exert himself too much.

 

Arthur shook his head. “I told you, you can't go home. Not yet, at least. It's too soon, too many humans...” Arthur trailed off uncomfortably, and Alfred felt a little cold inside at the possibility of hurting an innocent person.

 

“There's an abandoned hunting lodge – I stay there sometimes, I've done it up nicely on the inside. But I'm going to get this all sorted out - this is just for one night. You'll be somewhere safe and comfortable – I'm going to make sure of it. This is my fault, you were looking for me, I'll fix this,” Arthur was rambling quietly, and Alfred couldn't bare the pain in his friend's voice.

 

“Not your fault, Artie. You always warned me not to come here and I ignored you,”

 

Arthur pursed his lips and shook his head. He disagreed, but didn't want the pain of an argument, and so the discussion was over. Alfred was an expert in reading Arthur, and knew when not to push. But the silence didn't last long. Alfred could hear everything now, from distant rodents to falling leaves, and it was disconcerting. He wanted something to focus on, and he had a desperate question pressing to escape from his throat. Eventually, he could stand it no longer.

 

“Arthur, where did you go? You'd never been away for so long before. I thought you might have died,”

 

Arthur hugged his arm across his own chest, looking uncomfortable and clearly unwilling to speak. “I was at home,” he eventually conceded with a sigh.

 

“Your home here in the forest?”

 

Arthur nodded.

 

“Were you sick? Injured?” Alfred asked. He didn't understand why Arthur would have abandoned him for so long if he had been so close by.

 

“No...”

 

Alfred frowned. “Jesus, Arthur. I was worried to death, I couldn't sleep or anything. If you were here the whole time, you could have let me know,”

 

Arthur was chewing his lip nervously. “I know, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I understand why you're angry,”

 

Alfred sighed. He was just doing more damage to an already shaken Arthur, and to his own weakened conscious. “I'm not angry, not at you, not ever. Just...confused, and not handling it as well as I usually would. Just...tell me why you didn't come and see me. I know there's probably a good reason,”

 

“Something came up at home, I wasn't supposed to leave. But I could have if I really needed to...I should have. It would have prevented this. I'm so sorry Alfred,”

 

“Not supposed to leave? Why?”

 

Arthur didn't reply, but his whole body was tense.

 

“Okay, sorry, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But none of this is your fault, I got myself into this mess. Unless...”

 

“Unless?”

 

Alfred swallowed. There was a lump in his throat and an uncomfortable tightness in his gut. “Arthur, did you bite me?” he spat out.

 

The Englishman stopped dead, causing Alfred to stumble into a tree.

 

“Shit...ah...I'm sorry” Arthur helped Alfred back into a steady position, “Sorry, are you okay? I was just surprised. I didn't think you'd ask something like that. Do I...do I _look_ like a werewolf?”

 

Alfred gave a sheepish smile. “Well, I guess not...but I don't know what a werewolf looks like,”

 

“Muscular, sometimes a little rugged, a tendency to smell like dog,” Arthur shook his head, and they continued on. The tree cover was beginning to thin, and Alfred was feeling a little more comfortable, if not still overwhelmed. “So no, I'm not a werewolf, and I didn't bite you. But I know who did,”

 

“You know who attacked me?”

 

“Yes, and they're very upset. I think they want to take responsibility. They asked me to go and find the human...I was terrified when it was you. I'm sorry I reacted so badly, you're the one who's hurt. I should have been more comforting,”

 

“It's okay Artie. I don't feel shocked or sore anymore. Just really overwhelmed. I'd have been terrified if I found you like that, so I understand,”

 

“Still wasn't okay of me,” Arthur mumbled.

 

“I mean it Artie, you did good. Just you being there was comforting enough,” Alfred managed a cheeky grin, “But maybe you can make up for it by finally telling me about all your mysteries,”

 

To Alfred's relief, Arthur's mood changed immediately, and he gave a grumpy glower, “You're always on about me and mysteries. There's no mystery, I've told you it all before. I'm a human, I live in a house in the woods,”

 

“With werewolves,”

 

“They're friends, they're visiting,”

 

“Being friends with werewolves is mysterious,”

 

Arthur was silent for a moment. “I'm a human,” was all he said, and it was clear that Alfred wouldn't be extracting anymore information. Alfred decided, considering the intense morning they had suffered so far, that he would drop the issue for now.

 

“So uh...who bit me?”

 

“It doesn't matter. We're almost at the cabin, and you'll meet him soon,”

 

“His name, at least?”

 

“His name is Antonio. He's very kind. I think you'll be fine with him,”

 

“What do you mean? Is he staying?”

 

Arthur sighed. “The details don't matter right not. This isn't the place to discuss these things, you're still shaken, I need to get you into bed,”

 

“Then you'll tell me everything?”

 

“I don't know, I need to think. And I need to get home as soon as I can. I'm sorry. Antonio can explain a lot of things after you've rested,”

 

“Okay, I can wait. Is this the place?”

 

Up ahead was a small clearing and a run down looking log cabin. The kind of place that just yesterday would have terrified Alfred, but now just looked like a safe shelter to finally rest his weary head.

 

“Yes, this is the place. I'll get you settled in, and then I'll have to go and find Antonio. He'll be glad to know he didn't kill you,”

 

“You're coming back too, right?”

 

Arthur paused. “Yes, I'll be back too, before sundown,” he eventually replied, though something about the statement was suspicious, as if a fact or two were missing. Alfred didn't have much time to think about it – when Arthur swung the cabin door open and he saw a cosy bed in front of him, he collapsed onto it, falling into an instant sleep.

 

* * *

 

“This is it. He's resting right now. I have to get back to the house to sort everything out, please take good care of him whilst I'm away,”

 

“I will, I promise. I did this, the least I can do is be good to him,”

 

Alfred awoke instantly, no grogginess or morning confusion, as if he had never truly been asleep. He remembered everything that had happened with full clarity, no illusions of a dream or confusion about where he was. It felt odd, but very convenient, likely another effect of his new condition. Outside the cabin he could hear voices, so clear that they may as well have been speaking in his ear. Arthur, and likely Antonio.

 

“What's his story?” the new voice asked. “Family, friends? Who will be looking for him?”

 

“How should I know?” Arthur sounded offended, although Alfred could tell it was feigned. Arthur was not a very good actor, “I picked him up off the ground half dead and dragged him here, we didn't exactly have time for bonding,”

 

The other male laughed, though it was kind and not mocking. “You're not good at hiding your emotions, little Arturo. I can tell you care about this human. How did you know him?”

 

There was silence on the other side of the door.

 

“Arthur?” the unfamiliar male prompted, and eventually there was a sigh.

 

“He's my friend, don't tell Francis,”

 

_Francis?_ Alfred wondered, _Who's that? Another werewolf?_

 

“I think Francis is going to find out on his own. He'll be wanting to know what happened,”

 

“I know,” Arthur sounded stressed and upset. Alfred wanted to comfort him, but he didn't want to alert the pair to his consciousness lest he miss out on important information.

 

“So, since you know him, what's his story?”

 

“He lives alone, he has plenty money to travel. No parents but other relatives scattered about the community. They shouldn't cause too much fuss about him leaving, they seem supportive,”

 

Travelling? Leaving? Where to?

 

“Okay, Arturo. It doesn't sound like things will be too complicated, so that's good. You go do what you need to do. Try and get back before Francis gets up. Stay safe,”

 

“Thank you Antonio, I'll be back as quickly as possible,”

 

Arthur turned and ran. Alfred could hear every step, could judge the speed of movement and the gradually increasing distance. It was unnatural and unsettling, but he took comfort in Arthur's promise to return soon.

 

When the door creaked open, Alfred did not pretend to be asleep. He know that if this guy was just like him, there would be no fooling him. His visitor was a muscular man, with gentle green eyes and bronzed skin. He seemed kind, and a little sheepish, and was probably in his late twenties. He had a certain energy radiating off him – one that felt very intertwined with Alfred's own. The man smiled at him.

 

“Hi, I'm Antonio. I suppose I have some explaining to do...”

 


	5. 1.1.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I edited this section, I realised a massive blight of a plot-hole. I've meticulously dated tens of paragraphs at a huge effort and forgot :) to :) account :) for :) full :) moons :)
> 
> Yes, as it turns out, the full moons of the 1990s occurred independently of the plot convenience of my fanfiction. So I'm changing the science of lycanthropy instead because that's easier to fix.
> 
> Section 1.1.2 has been edited so that Alfred does not stare up at a full moon, but just the plain old moon, and werewolves can now control their transformation (Twilight style) when they feel the need to hunt and free the wolf within them, but lose control of themselves as they do so (normal werewolf style).
> 
> Enjoy the tiny update!

**1.1.5**

 

**(February 20, 1990)**

 

“Antonio's been really kind to me. I'm glad you were right about that, since it looks like I'll be stuck with him for a while,”

 

Alfred and Antonio had talked all day. Mostly about the facts and details of his new...condition. He was immortal now. Wouldn't die easily (and certainly not from old age), injuries would heal within hours, he'd be stronger and faster and more dangerous. Every so often, he would need to transform – to hunt, to release pent up energy and frustration – more frequently at first, but he'd be able to better control himself as time went on, and go longer between transformations. It was all very overwhelming, and Alfred felt stuck somewhere between steely acceptance and a complete freak out.

 

He also had to move to Spain, apparently, where Antonio and his mate Lovino were about to return. He had to learn to cope as a werewolf safely under Antonio's guidance, and that meant going where Antonio went. Alfred wasn't happy about that, and if it wasn't for the fact that people's lives were at risk, he would never have agreed to travel so far from Arthur. But the possibility of accidentally hurting Arthur, or anyone at all, was too much of a risk, so he had to go – at least until it was safe to come back.

 

“He'll look after you well. You're a direct member of his pack now. Pack mates look out for each other on instinct,”

 

“But I wish I didn't have to leave. I don't mind leaving the town, but I mind leaving you,”

 

Arthur blinked at him, and smiled sadly. “I don't want you to leave either. But there isn't a choice. You just have to be strong now and accept things as they come,”

 

“I know, but it's not easy. You're my closest friend, I care about you so much,”

 

Arthur looked sad, a little bit broken, even. Alfred felt guilty – he had caused all of this when he decided to ignore every one of Arthur's warnings and step foot into the forest. But it was too late to dwell on that. What was done was done, and as Arthur said, he just had to push forward and accept life as it came.

 

“I know,” Arthur whispered, “It will be hard for both of us,”

 

“When will I see you again?”

 

That Arthur was almost in tears was enough of an answer for Alfred, who steeled himself with a deep breath and ignored the lump in his throat. Arthur didn't seem to think they would ever see each other again. But Arthur was wrong – Alfred would be sure to return, the very second he was able to.

 

“Then, before you go, can you at least tell me what you are? I tried asking Antonio, but he said it wasn't his place to talk about your business,”

 

“I'm a human,” Arthur mumbled, unwillingly.

 

“You're not. I can tell. Especially now my senses are better,”

 

“I am a human,” Arthur glowered determinedly, and Alfred sighed.

 

“Please Arthur. We shouldn't say goodbye still holding onto secrets. Please,”

 

Arthur seemed to crumble at Alfred's pleas. He looked down and nodded. “Okay,” he conceded, “I am a human...but I'm different. There's not really a common name for what I am that I'm willing to share right now,” Arthur looked uncomfortable about the subject, so Alfred gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. “I guess 'half-turned' is one way that it could be described,”

 

Alfred frowned in confusion. Why was Arthur being so vague about a name? And what would “half-turned” imply?

 

“What do you mean?” he quizzed, “Half turned into a werewolf?”

 

Arthur shook his head. “No. A vampire,”

 

Alfred paused to consider this. Everything so far had been a lot to take in, but knowing what he did now about werewolves, vampirism wasn't too hard to accept.

 

“So what does that mean exactly? You're a half-vampire? In the middle of turning or what?”

 

“No...it's nothing like that. I'm not part vampire. But I am in a way...I mean...” Arthur sighed, clearly frustrated. “I'm sorry Alfred, I can't talk about it now. It's complicated, it's not a comfortable subject, and I think it's too soon for you to know. It's been a really tedious day for you already, your brain needs a rest. I'll...I'll talk to Antonio before you leave and give him permission to share everything, as soon as he thinks you're ready. I don't think...” Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady his cracking voice, “I don't think I'll ever see you again, but I at least don't want to leave you wondering. It's only fair you learn everything,”

 

Alfred nodded sadly, and touched his hand to Arthur's face, wiping away a stray tear. “It's okay, Artie. You told me enough for now. Thank you,”

 

Arthur reached up too, brushing Alfred's fingers lightly before letting their hands fall together. It was delicate..almost romantic. But Alfred couldn't let himself thing about that right now. _Just two good friends saying goodbye,_ he told himself.

 

“I really have to go Alfred. The sun is setting. I think I've stayed too long,”

 

“Okay, Artie. I'll miss you. But I'll find you again. I got this bite looking for you, and it's gonna take way more than this to keep me away from you,”

 

Arthur didn't reply, just shook his head miserably and gave Alfred's hand one last squeeze, before turning and fleeing into the forest.

 


	6. 1.1.6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section is officially the end of chapter one! Yay, we made it!

**1.1.6**

 

**(February 23, 1990)**

 

“Can you tell me now?” Alfred huffed in frustration. Antonio didn't reply. In fairness, it was probably around the fiftieth time he had asked, but regardless, he didn't like being ignored. He missed Arthur terribly and wanted the information he had been promised, but Antonio had kept his lips tightly sealed for the past few days, claiming to be waiting for somewhere “safe and private”. Now they were in Spain, on the road to Antonio's property, and the older werewolf was still unwilling to share.

 

He decided that instead of kicking the back of Antonio's seat again, which didn't seem to bother the wolf at all, he would use a different tactic to get attention. With a mischievous grin, Alfred shuffled along the back seat, and gave a solid stomp on the back of Lovino's chair instead, causing the Italian to lurch forward and explode almost immediately.

 

“For fucks sake! What did you do that for, you stupid fucking oaf? I was trying to nap. Antonio, just fucking tell him already so we can get an ounce of peace from this overgrown fucking puppy,”

 

Alfred smirked to himself. He had already figured out the dynamics of the relationship between the two wolfs, and he knew Antonio would do nearly anything to calm down one of Lovino's temper tantrums.

 

Antonio sighed tiredly, looking incredibly exasperated, “I can't. Not yet,”

 

“But we're in private now. You promised you would tell me when we were somewhere safe and private,” Alfred whined.

 

“I'm sorry Alfred. I want to tell you, but I'm driving. I don't want to crash. When I do tell you, you'll understand,”

 

“I'd rather fucking crash than sit here and listen to this whining for the next three hours, just fucking tell him,”

 

“Why would you crash? Whatever you have to tell me, I can stay calm,”

 

“You won't,” Antonio's brows were furrowed a little desperately now he was being coaxed on two sides.

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because you love him and...you haven't really noticed it yourself yet...but as far as your instincts are concerned he's your mate. I'm not one for getting upset, but even I get angry if my mate is threatened,”

 

“ _ **Threatened?**_ _”_ Alfred screeched, and Antonio's eyes widened.

 

“Um...oops,” he looked sheepish, “forget I said anything. Just a few more hours and we'll be back at my home,”

 

Alfred growled. “Look, I'm further from home than I've ever been – I'm in a whole different continent. My entire world has been turned upside down, things for me are never going to be the same again. The very, very least you can do after all of this is tell me what is going on with the person I love. And I promise that in return that I will stay calm throughout whatever you have to say,”

 

Antonio sighed in defeat. “Okay. Okay, you're right, you deserve to know. Keeping you waiting isn't nice. I'm sorry,”

 

“Thank you,”

 

“Arthur described himself as half-turned, right?”

 

Alfred nodded, “A half-turned vampire he said. What is that?”

 

“A human who drinks vampire blood. They're known by a lot of different names, most of them are derogatory...half-turned isn't a common one, since it's not very accurate. A human is only turned when a vampire consciously injects them with venom – there's no half way stage between being a human and a vampire,”

 

Alfred cocked his head in confusion, “So what's the point in drinking vampire blood? What does it do?”

 

“Well, immortality is the major benefit. The vict- uh, drinker, will never age, as long as they're getting a few drops of blood every week or two. And they still have to eat, but they draw a lot of energy from the vampire they're connected to, so they don't have to sleep very often,”

 

“So, Arthur is immortal?”

 

“Not quite, he won't age, but he can still be hurt or killed like an ordinary human,”

 

“Is he very old then?”

 

“No, he's 29 I think. He first drank blood when he was 23,”

 

None of this sounded too bad. Alfred couldn't figure out why it was being kept from him. In fact, immortality was probably good news – it meant that Arthur wouldn't be growing old and leaving Alfred behind. Maybe it was because Arthur was “connected” to another person that no-one wanted Alfred to know? In all honesty, it did make him a little bit jealous to hear about it.

 

“Who is he drinking from, then? Who is he connected to?”

 

“My friend, Francis. He's a very old vampire, the leader of a small but powerful coven,”

 

Alfred frowned. “Why didn't he just tell me that? I'm a werewolf now, it's hardly a big deal if he's drinking a bit of vampire blood,” Alfred frowned, “And you said he was threatened. Why is he threatened? Does Francis treat him well? Are they dating?”

 

Antonio looked a little nervous. “I think you should wait until you hear the rest. Until you are more familiar with the supernatural world...until you see humans the way we see humans,”

 

“You will tell me now,” Alfred glared, and Antonio backed down immediately with a nervous sigh.

 

“You are going to be a very strong wolf when you start developing your powers...” he trailed off, avoiding Alfred's eyes and staring firmly at the road.

 

“Tell me the rest,”

 

“Okay,” Antonio smiled shakily, and launched into an explanation of Arthur's situation that made Alfred see crimson red.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.angel-log.tumblr.com


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